The Other Side of Halloween
by Jihan Al-Kwasarmi
Summary: Xander dresses up as something different on Halloween, but so does everyone else...with rather interesting consequences. Multiple crossovers. My first submitted fanfic.


I've read a large number of 'What-if-Xander-dressed-as-something-different-on-Halloween' 'fics, but not too many 'What-if-everyone-dressed-as-something-different-on-Halloween' ones. Consequently, I played around with a few crossover ideas and this is what came out.

Inspired by **HALLOWEEN COSPLAY CHAOS X vs X **by Spaceman and **The Xander Halloween Drabble Collection** by Simone of the Zordiak.

**Disclaimer:  
**I own none of the characters or settings depicted in this 'fic. Maybe in some alternate universe, but not in this one. Similarly, I'm writing this for my personal amusement, not for any sort of monetary gain. Satisfied?

**A/N:  
**1) I've consciously fiddled with the release dates of some things.  
2) See end of 'fic for glossary.  
3) To win your very own custom-made collapsible refrigerator, email me with a list of all the crossovers I incorporated and their respective mentions. If you guess the identity of the unused costume correctly, I'll throw in an inflatable dartboard.

'**The Other Side' of Halloween  
**by Jihan Al-Kwasarmi

The moment they entered 'The Other Side', they stopped and stared. And then stared some more.

"Okay…" said Xander.

"This is…" continued Willow.

"Not exactly what I was expecting," finished Buffy. "What kind of costumes are these, anyway?"

In addition to the expected costumes – ghosts, skeletons, vampires, witches, miscellaneous monsters, and the like – they could see a large number of particularly striking exhibits, none of which were immediately recognizable to the three friends.

"You like them?" came a British voice from the side. They turned to see a dark-haired man, apparently in his forties, approaching them with a pleased expression. "I decided to branch out a little this year. Initiate a few newcomers into the multitudinous and fantastic realms of cosplay."

Buffy frowned, puzzled. "What's cosplay?"

"Oh, it's when people dress up as anime or manga characters. Well, I don't think it _has_ to be anime or manga, but anyway, they dress up as specific characters, not just generic things."

Buffy and Willow peered at Xander, surprised by this snippet of information. The owner looked even more pleased; "Ah, do we perhaps have an otaku here?"

Xander cringed slightly. "Er, hopefully more a fanboy than an otaku…"

"What's an otaku?" Buffy interrupted.

"Japanese word for a fanatic. It's nothing to be ashamed of, young man." He smiled conspiratorially. "Now. Is there anything in particular you have in mind, or would you like to browse first?"

The three teenagers looked at each other momentarily. "I'll go with the browsing," said Xander, as he made his way into the shop and began to look around. The two girls followed suit.

A few minutes later, Buffy and Willow were in the middle of a difference of opinion.

"Willow, look around! There are millions of _fantastic_ costumes, and you're going as a _bedsheet?_ That's verging on sacrilege!

"It's not a bedsheet, Buffy, it's a ghost! A time-honoured Halloween classic!"

Buffy sighed. "You're completely missing the point of Halloween, Wills."

"Um…free candy?"

"No, not free candy. The point is to dress up as someone or something completely different. You know, go wild!"

"…Buffy, that sounds like a bad idea. Wild on me equals spaz."

"As a matter of fact, I think I agree with Buffy." The girls started as the owner appeared from behind a rack of costumes. "Although the ghost is, as Willow rightly put it, a classic. Maybe…" He seemed to be deep in thought. "…maybe these two opposing points of view can meet. I have just the thing. This way, young lady," he said, signalling to Willow and walking off. After a moment's hesitation – and a shove from Buffy – Willow followed.

Buffy resumed her search. Her eyes glanced over a few costumes: one came with a long blue sleeveless duster and a black armband, another consisted of an apparently armoured full-body jumpsuit and a motorcycle helmet, plus a pair pistols with spherical magazines, yet another had an interesting accessory – a blue bass guitar…she mentally shook her head. None were…well, feminine enough, she thought, remembering the illustration in the Watcher diary she and Willow had been looking at.

"Hey, Buffy. Found anything yet?"

Xander's voice nudged her out of her reverie. She shook her head. "You?"

He held up a toy M16 automatic rifle. "Depends. If I can find anything better than this and still within my budget, I'll take it, otherwise I'll go as Lance-Corporal Harris with the old army fatigues I've got at home."

"Lance-Corporal?"

"Hey, it's higher than Private."

"Uh-huh. Anyway…Xander?"

"Yeah?" He pointed the toy at her.

"I'm really sorry about this morning."

Xander sighed. "Do you mind, Buffy? I'm trying to repress."

"Okay then, I promise from now on I'll let you get pummelled." She pretended to pout.

"Thank you." He rolled his eyes. "You know, I actually think I could've tak…"

But Buffy was no longer listening. She had seen, hanging behind Xander, a particularly stunning costume. It was a richly embroidered kimono, made from unusually fine material. The kimono was black, with a blue hakuma, and both had the same gold pattern along the edges. A white obi belt tied into a green ring and pointed shoes completed the profoundly regal effect.

"Hello! That was our touching reconciliation moment there!"

Buffy shook her head and found that she had stepped away from Xander and right up to the costume. "I'm sorry, it's just…look at it…" All thoughts of 18th-century noblewomen had rapidly flown from her head.

Xander did so, and formulated an opinion after a moment. "Too bulky. I prefer my women in spandex. However…" He pointed. "I like the sword. Women with swords – big turn on."

"Sword?" Buffy leaned over to the right and saw, attached to the costume's left hip, the elaborate gold hilt. Also, attached to the scabbard by a red cord, a spherical gem-like object. "Who is this character, anyway?"

"Nakajima Yoko, the Empress of Kei." The owner was back, with Willow in tow. Buffy saw that he had been more successful than her – Willow was carrying a new costume, one that seemed mostly black, one that came with…a samurai sword? Making a mental note to ask her about it later, Buffy allowed the owner to hold the costume she'd been eyeing up to her in front of a mirror. Upon seeing her reflection…

"Wow," was all she could say.

"Yes, it's magnificent. I think we have a winner. Or rather, an Empress."

Buffy's face fell as she remembered; "Oh, no. I'm sorry; there's no way I could ever afford this."

"Oh, nonsense," the dark-haired man scoffed. "I feel quite moved to make you a deal you can't refuse."

"Careful, Buffy, that's the line he used with me," said Willow in a stage whisper. They both giggled.

A little later, Xander was still browsing. Buffy and Willow had already left, discussing and comparing their costumes and attached characters excitedly. Although not particularly hopeful of finding something affordable, Xander was, as he had earlier admitted, a fanboy, and was able to appreciate the detail of the costumes more than some. It was while he was seeing for himself exactly how many guns Neo had carried into the infamous lobby that he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey, Dawnster," he said, turning around.

"Hey, Xander. Are you going to go as Neo?" Dawn seemed thrilled by the prospect, and, playing along for her benefit, he whipped out an imaginary cellphone and spoke into it. "Guns. Lots of guns." She giggled. He shook his head, dropping the act. "Nah, I don't think so. I mean, Neo's cool in the fight scenes, but other than that…I'd rather not go as Mr I-have-only-ten-expressions-and-they're-all-the-same."

This comment produced an indignant outburst: "Keanu Reeves does NOT have only ten expressions!"

"Dawn, not so loud, dear." Joyce put a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"So, who are you going as, Mrs Summers?" Xander asked jokingly, and got a reply he really wasn't expecting. "Well, I'm not exactly sure…I mean, I haven't thought about it too much…"

Xander blinked. "Hang on, I was joking…you're going to dress up?" Joyce laughed at his surprise. "I am. Why should kids have all the fun on Halloween? Besides, after I facilitate some trick-or-treating, I'm going to a fancy-dress party!"

"A fancy-dress party?"

"Someone had the idea of combining fancy-dress with a parent-teacher meeting…and I think it's great. Those meetings can be so incredibly awkward…"

Dawn interrupted her. "Come on, mom! Costumes, remember?"

"Ok, ok! See you, Xander!" Xander chuckled as Joyce was dragged off by an over-excited Dawn, then sighed as he looked around. _Still haven't found anything better than the gun,_ he thought.

"At a loss, perhaps?"

_Damn_. _This owner guy must be psychic or something._

"Well, not exactly," he replied, holding up the toy. "I have this, I've just been looking to see if…"

"Ah, a soldier. A man of action, tactics, quick decisions. Another classic costume. However, may I suggest a variation on the theme…" he led Xander over to a rack on the other side of the shop and pointed.

Xander blinked. His mind began to make an inventory.

Black leather jacket with fur collar – check.  
Black leather gloves – check.  
Black trousers – check.  
White t-shirt – check.  
Stylized silver lion's head necklace – check.  
Elaborate ammunition belts – check.  
Heavy black boots – check.  
An ornate ring, similar to the necklace – check.  
And the weapon – a strange hybrid of gun and sword – check.

"Leonheart," he breathed. "Of course. The SeeD Commander." The owner looked pleased. "I see you are already familiar with the character."

Xander almost snorted. Familiar? A few years ago, when Jesse had had Final Fantasy VIII, Xander had virtually played the game to bits, even so far as to acquire all the character cards and defeat the Omega Weapon. Squall Leonheart, the quintessential 'lone wolf', ranked number one in his list of cool superheroes. Xander glanced at the owner, who was watching him appraisingly.

"Are you going to make me an offer I can't refuse?" Xander asked, unable to keep a pleading note out of his voice. The owner chuckled.

Xander walked towards the exit, holding the bag containing the costume in one hand and the character information card that the costume came with in the other. His intent studying of the card caused him shortly to bump into someone.

"Ow! Xander, please do watch where you're going."

"Sorry, G-Man," he said instinctively. He then looked up, and did a double-take. "Giles? And Ms Calendar!"

Giles sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Xander, we are, in fact, aliens. Your surprise at our abhorrent visages is entirely justified."

_Huh? Oh, right, he was joking. _Xander laughed. "But, why…"

Giles cut him off. "Someone decided to combine the upcoming parent-teacher meeting with a Halloween party. And, what's more, make costumes mandatory for staff. I expect the person responsible will soon be eligible for a Darwin award."

Jenny chuckled. "Ok, 'G-Man', that's enough with the British sarcasm." She steered him into the shop. Xander made his exit, laughing himself at Giles's groan of "oh, not you too". He walked more quickly than usual, eager to get home and try his costume on.

A little later, Giles was distinctly agitated.

"Where is the owner of this blasted place?" he muttered under his breath.

"What's the matter?" Jenny poked her head around a rack. "Can't find anything?"

"On the contrary," he replied. "I can find a whole lot of things, all of which will probably look completely ridiculous on me."

She gave him a pensive look. "What about that Conan costume?" She pointed.

"Conan the Barbarian?" Giles's expression became horrified as he pictured Arnold Schwarzenegger in a loincloth.

"Well, I guess that would make _you_ Conan the Librarian," said Jenny, unable to keep a straight face. Giles put a hand over his eyes. "Oh, dear."

"Relax, I'll help you. I've already found mine." She came around the rack and held out a costume that consisted mainly of a long blue robe. "Polgara the Sorceress."

Giles raised an eyebrow. "Interesting name, considering it's also the name for a particularly unpleasant demon. But, about the help: yes please."

Jenny nodded, and they walked alongside a few racks, her giving each costume a careful once-over, him cleaning his glasses for the fourth time.

Hmm, she thought. Black suit, white gloves, orange glasses, doesn't look too weird…details? Gendo Ikari, yada yada yada, director of NERV, a cold-hearted, Machiavellian…nope. Next one. Let's see…

"How about Gandalf?" she said out loud.

"No, not with all that hair and beard."

"Well, then, Obi-Wan Kenobi? No, I don't suppose…" she turned around and saw him looking contemplative.

"…actually, I always did like Alec Guinness in that role…" said Giles.

Cordelia was annoyed. Partytown always had the best costumes, but could they be open during Halloween? No, the entire staff had to go and get themselves 'indisposed'. And what the hell did that mean, anyway? Who uses words like 'indisposed'? Well, apart from Mr Giles, but he's British so he doesn't count…

"May I help you?" A smooth voice – also British – interrupted her furious train of thought as she paced around 'The Other Side'. She looked up at the man.

"You can sure as hell try. I need a costume. A good one," she said shortly. The man was unperturbed.

"Of course. Well, most of our character costumes have been taken, but I haven't yet found the right person for this one. Perhaps, if you are willing, we could make a deal…"

Cordelia appraised the costume critically. Sure, it was maybe a little _too _daring, but not _very_ much more than the cat costume in Partytown's window that she'd had her eye on. Besides, she'd already been thinking of changing her hairstyle, and speaking of cats…" Well, I thought the recent film really sucked, but I liked her in Batman Returns…"

The owner smiled.

That night:

"Chaos, I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate son."

With blood on his eyelids and forehead, Ethan Rayne finished his prayer as he knelt before the statue of Janus, and contemplated the day's events. He chuckled when he remembered that old Rupert had unwittingly bought a costume from _his_ shop, thanks to him making a hasty temporary retreat to the back room when the old acquaintance had come in. Even better, with Partytown temporarily out of business – thanks to a subtle bit of magic – all but one of his character costumes had sold out. He smiled grimly. Tomorrow night would indeed be a night to remember.

For the survivors.

Buffy adjusted the long, red wig and inspected her reflection carefully. Stepping back, she drew the sword from its position at her left hip and struck a few poses.

"Where're you meeting Angel?" came Willow's voice from the bathroom.

"Here, after trick-or-treating. Mom's gonna be out."

"Does he know about your costume?"

"Nope. It's a surprise." Buffy smiled at herself in the mirror. "I must admit, this isn't what I was originally aiming for, but…I think the Empress of a mythical kingdom's way better than some run-of-the-mill noblewoman, don't you?"

"Uh-huh." Willow's voice was muffled.

"Are you dressed yet?"

"Erm, no. I can't get everything to stay on. Could you please give me a hand?"

"Sure." Willow opened the door and came through into Buffy's bedroom. Her obi belt was undone and her hakuma was hanging at an angle. Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"Willow, did you read the instructions?" she asked. Willow looked embarrassed. "Instructions?"

"Yeah, on the back of your character card." Willow was already shuffling back into the bathroom to fetch it.

"Okay, there." Buffy adjusted Willow's black wig and stepped back to look at her. Willow absently brushed a clump of the wig's hair out of her face.

"No, no, that's supposed to be like that. See?" Buffy pointed to the character card, and, sure enough, the person depicted had a clump of black hair falling diagonally across her face. Willow remained still as Buffy repositioned the hair and turned her around to face the mirror.

"You look cool," was Buffy's verdict. Willow grinned. Her costume was almost entirely black, except for the white obi belt, socks and sandals. The addition of a katana – or rather, as the character card called it, a zanpakutou – made her look like a samurai.

"Hey, don't grin like that. It's out of character. Remember, you're Kuchiki Rukia, you're a hundreds-of-years old shinigami, your job is to destroy evil spirits, you like rabbit-themed things and your…theme song is Ashley MacIsaac's 'Wing-Stock'?" said Buffy, reading from the card.

"Okay then, how's this?" Willow put on her 'resolve face' for a moment before bursting into giggles.

Buffy grinned. "Actually, that was about right."

The doorbell rang. "And _that_ must be Xander. You ready?" Willow finished giggling, and nodded. "Alrighty, then. Let the women with swords grace the scene." Buffy went to get the door.

Willow turned to follow. Unfortunately, in doing so, she tripped over her own feet.

As Buffy opened the door, Xander clicked his heels and gave the SeeD salute – arm pointed vertically upwards, palm facing inwards, thumb tucked in. "Balamb Commander Squall Leonheart reporting for mission as per…" he trailed off as he saw Buffy, resplendent in her Empress robes. "Buffy! Empress Summerjima Buffoko of Kei! I am in awe! I completely renounce spandex!"

Buffy lifted her chin. "As you should do, Commander Leonheart. But wait 'til you see…"

"Kuchiki Rukia, the rokubantai fukutaichou," came a surprisingly stern voice. Buffy and Xander turned to look at the stairs. Willow had taken a moment to straighten her costume after her fall, and now stood halfway up the stairs, her arms folded and her expression on 'resolve face'. After a beat, Xander asked, "What does that mean?"

Willow pulled the character card out from inside her dougi and scanned it quickly. "Erm, it means I'm the team six's lieutenant. Second-in-command, sort of thing. Apparently shinigamis are organised into teams."

"Oh. Right. Go team six." Xander smiled goofily. "Your costume looks pretty cool, Mr SeeD Commander. Scar included," complimented Willow.

"You think?" Xander ran a gloved finger across the fake diagonal cut in the middle of his forehead, then peered at Willow's sword and frowned. "Willow, you've got your sword the wrong way round."

"Wrong way round?"

"Yeah, it should be curving downwards, not upwards." He walked up to her and twisted it round.

Willow frowned. "But how am I supposed to draw it now?"

"Like this; may I demonstrate? Thank you." Xander took the sheathed katana and held it in with his left hand at his left hip. He then cocked his other wrist up and slowly drew the sword, keeping the blade's 'blunt' edge against the scabbard and cutting an arc from left to right once the blade was out. He did it a couple more times, making sure of the movements himself, before handing it back.

"How did you know how to do that?" asked Buffy.

Xander smiled. "Have I never shown you my Rurouni Kenshin manga?"

Whatever Buffy was going to say in response to that was quickly forgotten as Joyce came in from the kitchen and said, "Could you please demonstrate that once more for me, Xander?"

The three teenagers' jaws dropped in amazement. Even Xander, who'd known that Joyce was going to dress up, had in no way been expecting _this._

A yellow jumpsuit with single black lines on the sleeves and trouser legs, and badges on the jacket. Yellow plimsolls. Straight hair. And, to complete the effect, a katana with the design of a shiisa on the blade near the hilt.

"Mom…you didn't…" said Buffy, her voice filled with disbelief. Joyce nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"I think she looks cool!" came Dawn's voice from the top of the stairs.

Once again, heads turned, although Dawn's costume generated far less amazement than her mother's, mostly because only one other person there could recognize it immediately.

"And _who _are you supposed to be?" asked Buffy.

"Tenmari of the Sand Village. Duh!"

Dawn had persuaded her mother to let her dye her hair blonde. It was now arranged in four spiky ponytails. The rest of the costume consisted of fingerless gloves, ankle-supporting sandals, and what appeared to be a shortened yukata – all of which were black. The similarity to Willow's costume ended with the white obi belt; on her forehead she wore a headband with an hourglass design embossed on its metal plate, and strapped to her back was an outsize fan.

"What's with the fan?"

"It's my weapon!"

"A _fan?_"

"Lots of the Naruto characters have weird weapons or fighting techniques." Xander subtly headed off what might've developed into another inter-sister argument. "The author spends his time designing them instead of thinking of good dialogue and plot devices."

A moment of silence followed this observation. Then, "Anyway, we probably should be going now," said Willow, and the three friends shortly headed schoolwards, while Joyce supplied Dawn with some guidelines as to how late she could stay out trick-or-treating with her friends.

At the school, Buffy was waiting for her troop, idly tapping a pen against the clipboard she'd been given and glancing over the conscripted troop leaders. To her amusement, she saw that Jonathan Livingston was wearing a cape that a) was rather too big for him and b) reminded her vaguely of Spawn. Further behind him, Amy Madison was wearing, among other things, a long pin with a wolf's head stuck through her black wig. Buffy was about to step over to ask her about it when Snyder appeared both with her charges and his characteristic unpleasantness.

"This is your group, Summers. No need to speak to them, the last thing they need is your influence," he said. "Just bring them back in one piece and I won't expel you."

A little way off, out of sight of Buffy, Larry, dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow, decided to annoy Xander.

"Where's your bodyguard, Harris? Curling her hair?" He jumped at Xander, who flinched. Laughing, he walked off.

"Bahamut, Dark Flare," muttered Xander under his breath, bringing a hand to his forehead, then pointing it palm-outward at Larry. He then shook his head ruefully. _Actually,_ he thought, _the Lion Heart limit break would be more appropriate. They'd be scraping him off the walls and ceiling for days._

Elsewhere, Cordelia walked up to Oz, who looked at her rather…carefully.

"Hey, Cordelia. I never knew you were into S&M."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Very funny. Look, are you guys playing tonight?"

"Dressed like this?" Oz raised an eyebrow and indicated his costume with one hand. "No chance. May Snyder be cursed with chronic anxiety about the weather."

"Amen to that. Anyway, are you likely to see Mr I'm-the-lead-singer-I'm-so-great-I-don't-have-to-show-up-for-my-date-or-even-call tonight?"

"Y'know, he's just going by 'Devon' now. And no. He escaped."

"Well, if you _do _see him, you can tell him that I don't care, and that I didn't even mention it. And that I didn't even see you. So that's just fine."

Oz frowned. "So, what do I tell him? If I see him?"

"Nothing! Geez, get with the program!" Cordelia walked off in a huff, her heels clicking loudly against the floor.

"Now why can't I meet a nice girl like that?" Oz asked himself sarcastically. He turned back to his locker and in doing so bumped into Willow, who was just coming down the hall.

"Oh! I'm sorry," he said immediately.

Willow's apology was equally automatic. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

After a beat, Willow frowned, remembering her character, and continued down the hall with a rather more assertive step than before. Oz watched her for a moment, then locked his locker and followed.

When Xander caught sight of Oz, a minute later, he immediately walked over and said, "Hey, you're that guy from Final Fantasy VII…what's his name…damn, I can never remember his name, I always think of him as 'the guy with the big-ass sword'…"

And a 'big-ass sword' it was. Only slightly shorter than Oz himself, it hung strapped across his back. The rest of the costume was mainly black leather, with the left shoulder and glove covered in studded armour. Extra accessories included luminous blue contact lenses.

"Cloud Strife," supplied Oz.

"That's it. Huh. Weird name, Cloud. Although I suppose I can't really talk – my guy's called Squall. I guess the Final Fantasy character designers have a weather fixation."

Oz's mouth corner twitched. "That, and a thing for weird weapons."

"Yeah." Xander then dropped his voice dramatically. "And your schwartz is even bigger than mine!" This earned him a chuckle from the usually taciturn guitarist.

"Talking of big things, _there's_ someone with something a little _too_ large." Oz pointed at Jonathan's cape. "Who's he supposed to be, anyway?"

Xander looked, and promptly burst out laughing. Oz waited patiently for the hilarity to subside.

"Sorry…it's just…the hahaha…the thought of Jonathan…as Hiko Seijuro the 13th…it's just too funny…" And Xander was attacked by another fit of giggles.

"Why?" asked Oz. Xander finally managed to suppress his laughter.

"Well…he's supposed to be the most powerful swordsman in the whole of Japan…the 13th master of the fighting style Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He's probably the coolest character in the whole Rurouni Kenshin series. Oh, and he's a lot taller."

"Ah. Hence the incongruity."

Xander gave Oz a sidelong glance. _Has he been spending too much time around Giles?_ he thought. _Maybe he should've gone as the Architect. Ergo, concordantly, vis-à-vis…_

His thoughts were interrupted by Snyder's appearance. "Harris, Osborne, here you go. And remember: any ritual sacrifices you use them for will be performed on you ten times over." With that parting shot, he left.

"Got any Ultima materia?" quipped Xander. He then shook his head at Oz's perplexed expression and turned to his group, a fair number of whom had recognized his costume and were whispering to each other excitedly. _Let's do this properly,_ he thought.

"Okay, cadets, at ease." _Since you are already._ "Now. This is no ordinary mission. Our objective is to acquire the maximum amount of candy in the least amount of time. Unfortunately, our time limit is fixed and not subject to your personal choice. Therefore, I have prepared a strategic route for us to follow. Now, tactics: tears are the key to sleazing extra candy. They'll normally get you the double-bagger. You can also try the old 'you missed me' routine, but it's risky. Only go there for chocolate. Understood?" Nods all round. "Any questions?" Heads shaken. Xander performed a flawless SeeD salute. "Okay, then. Let's move out."

They moved out, while behind them, Oz was still busy answering questions from his group about his sword.

Later that night…

As Buffy led her group out of a house's driveway, she passed another group, going in the opposite direction. She bent down and asked, "What did Mrs Davis give you?"

The children all simultaneously produced toothbrushes from their bags. Buffy put on a grim expression. "She must be stopped." Then, to her own group, "Let's hit one more house. We still have a few minutes before I need to get you back."

Joyce waved the last of the trick-or-treaters good-bye and closed the door. _Time for the second half of this evening,_ she thought, and smiled to herself as she put the leftover candy down on the kitchen counter. _Now where did I put the car keys?_

Meanwhile, Ethan knelt once again before his statue of Janus. In the darkened room, he intoned a Latin chant. "Janus, evoco vestram animam. Exaudi meum causam…"

Willow led her charges up to another house. Although two children in monster costumes rang the doorbell, the response from the old lady who answered it was, "Oh my goodness, aren't you adorable!" _So much for the desired effect,_ Willow thought, grinning to herself.

"Come on, Dawn, you can't go home yet!" Janice had got to 'The Other Side' rather later than Dawn, and consequently had had to make do with a generic witch costume. The other two friends were both orcs, with apparently rusted armour and scimitars that would have been vicious had they been metal instead of plastic.

Dawn was all kinds of apologetic. "I'm really sorry, guys, but…if I make my mom wait 'til I get back she's going to be really pissed off. I mean, she even got dressed up and everything to go to that meeting."

"Really? Who as?"

Dawn smiled. "You'll never believe this…"

By this time, sweat was standing out on Ethan's brow.

"Persona se corpum et sanguium commutandum est."

His eyes were closed tightly with concentration.

"Vestra sancta praesentia concrescet viscera. Janus! Sume noctem!"

Outside, all over the town, the wind began to pick up. Energies from the spell radiated outwards from the statue, seeking, searching, and changing when it found as the spirit of Janus, riding on the wind, took the night.

Ethan raised his head and opened his eyes.

"Showtime."

"Oh dear! Am I all out? I could've sworn I had more candy." The old lady shook her bucket a few times in the hope that her failing eyesight had missed something, but nothing rattled. She turned back to the child, unaware of the change he had undergone. "I'm sorry, mister monster. Maybe I…"

At that moment, the formerly-child-now-red-skinned-monster-of-indeterminate-kind reached up and began to choke her. Seeing this, most of the other children let out shrieks of terror and ran, while Willow, after a moment's hesitation and a couple of verbal pleas, tried to pry the monster off the old lady. Another child, now a green-skinned monster, began to fight with the red one, diverting its attention away from the old lady, who immediately ran back into her house and slammed the door.

As Willow attempted to separate the two, she suddenly jerked backwards. Every muscle in her body tensed, as if from an electric shock. Then she slumped forward, breathing hard. Suddenly, her head snapped up.

_What the fuck?_ thought Kuchiki Rukia. _This isn't Karakura! Where the hell did I end up? And…_she ran a hand over her face, then looked down at herself. _This isn't a gigai! I'm in a human body! How in…_Looking up again, she saw the two monsters. One had the other on its back and was choking it. Her eyes narrowed. _They aren't hollows, so I probably shouldn't kill them, but anyway, here goes._

She walked up to them, took one in each hand, and sent them flying in opposite directions. One hit the wall of the next house, another hit a car. They picked themselves up, shook their heads, and wandered off, each trying to roar as loud as it could. Meanwhile, Rukia casually jumped up onto a lamppost and surveyed the scene.

_Only one word to describe this, _she thought. _And that's…_

…_chaos,_ thought Squall Leonheart, as he stood in the middle of the street, his brows drawn together in a scowl. _Where and when the hell is here, anyway? First I land up in the orphanage, but it's the wrong time, and now…I suppose time compression must've screwed things up even more than Odine reckoned. _

"Zell?" he called. "Irvine? Quistis? Selphie? Rinoa? Rinoa!"

No answer was forthcoming. Only screams and yells from fleeing people, growls and roars from the monsters chasing them, and crashes from breaking windows, splintering wood…he loosened the Lion Heart in its sheath. _I'd better find somewhere safe. Then I'll try to figure out what happened._

Fenris Fenrir picked herself up off the hard surface and stared around in surprise. One moment she'd been waiting for her next opponent in Geffen's magical tournament, the cheers of the crowd filling her ears, the next she was in some strange town at night, and the town seemed to be under attack. She extended her staff and casually swatted away something that looked like a small demon as it attempted to rush her, then, as a winged nightmare that could only be some kind of dragon bore down on her from above, she engulfed it in a blast of magical fire. It impacted on the road behind her and burned steadily, filling the air with the smell of cooking meat.

With the immediate threats gone, she was able to make a more careful assessment of her surroundings. The design of the buildings was strange to her, and she had never before seen metal contraptions such as the ones that were positioned near to almost every house, and some along the side of the road. The wires strung along rows of metal poles also confused her. However, more worrying was the fact that there was no sign of Chaos, Iris or Lydia.

_Only one thing could've done this,_ she thought. _Magic. Powerful magic, at that. I must find the source of the spell, and see if I can reverse it._

Calling upon the gods, she prayed for them to guide her. And, with a ringing noise and a flash of light that led off along the street, they answered. She set off in that direction, keeping her rod extended in case of further attacks.

Tenmari stood in a half-crouch and looked around, breathing hard. This made absolutely no sense whatsoever. She'dbeen hurrying through the forest that surrounded Konoha back to the Sand Village with a team of Leafs, shortly after hearing that Gaara had been kidnapped by the Akatsuki, thensuddenly she'd come skidding to a stop in the middle of the road in this town. Furthermore, it was night. _That premonition must've been even more significant than I thought._

Some distance ahead, a woman with flowing white hair stood suspended about two feet off the ground, facing a pale man whose sword was shrouded in a cloud of cold mist. The man gripped his sword with both hands, but before he could advance two steps a lightning bolt flashed from the sky and struck him back, flinging him out of sight. The woman slowly lowered to the ground.

_Wow. Never seen that kind of jutsu. Especially with no hand seals,_ thought Tenmari. Then, from behind her, she heard a harsh voice say, "Fresh meat!"

Turning, she saw two horribly deformed creatures were advancing, their weapons pointed directly at her. She unshouldered her fan and attacked without opening it.

Beatrix Kiddo, the 'deadliest woman in the world', stood in the doorway of a house she'd didn't remember ever having seen before, wondering how the fucking hell she'd got there. Then she looked outside, and wondered what the fucking hell was going on.

A young man ran down the street, yelling in terror as he was pursued by a red-jacketed woman, who was driving a yellow Vespa, brandishing a blue Rickenbacker bass guitar and yelling, "Ittedakimasu!" all simultaneously. A teenage girl with long black hair flowing out from under her helmet sped in the opposite direction, riding a hovering device that seemed vaguely dog-like. On the lawn of one of the houses across the street, a burly man with quicksilver eyes was fighting off at least five monsters with a pair of curved daggers – and apparently winning. And over this rang the continuous din of screams and shatterings, with the occasional explosion.

Beatrix realised she was holding things. She looked down. In her left hand, she held her Hanzo sword. In her right hand, a set of keys. One of them was a car key.

"Fuck this," she muttered. Slamming the door behind her, she made for the nearest car. The key fitted, and within seconds, she was off, dodging the obstacles the road provided. She was first getting the hell out of here, then she was going to figure out where exactly 'here' was, and then, when that was all sorted out, she'd get back to Tokyo to deal with O-Ren.

The first thing Yoko saw after the dizziness stopped looked like group of young men, but then their faces shifted and distorted, growing ridges, yellowed eyes and fangs. As they lunged at her, she kept her eyes open and let her guardian take over.

Seconds later, she observed the piles of dust curiously.

_Never seen youma like that,_ she thought. _They looked human, then turned to dust when I chopped them up. Weird. _

She raised her head and looked around. A few strange little creatures that had seen her dispose of the attackers backed away fearfully, then ran. _This isn't Kei. Am I back in Wa…I mean, Japan again? And if so, how?_ Twin sensations of delight and disappointment coursed through her. She'd finally accepted her place in the new world, despite its difficulties, and now…she walked over to a car and looked at its license plate.

_English,_ she thought. _Hm. C-a-l-i-f-o-r-n-i-a._ _California! But that's in America!_

She thought very hard, staring at the ground. Then her gaze fell on her sword.

_Of course!_ She looked around and saw that one of the gardens had its sprinkler system on. When she came near enough, she extended the blade and let a few drops make contact.

_Show me,_ she commanded. _Show me the reason why I'm here. Show me what caused this._

A blur of images flashed across the blade: a dark-haired man saying something with closed eyes, a statue with two faces and an open head, and then, the last and clearest image: a shop with a lit up sign that said 'The Other Side'. The moment she took all this in, the sword moved of its own accord, pointing diagonally at a gap between two houses, pulling slightly but distinctly at her hand.

_That's the way._ She set off.

Polgara the Sorceress was probably _the_ most respected woman in all the kingdoms of the west, except for Tolnedra, where they didn't believe in sorcery. There were a number of very good reasons for this, such as her beauty, her intelligence, and her magical powers. Also, very importantly, her temper.

However, she wasn't angry. Yet. At the moment, she was just rather annoyed. Annoyed that, at what was definitely one of the most important occasions in her extremely long _life,_ when Belgarion would finally realise his destiny as guardian of the Orb and Overlord of the West, she was suddenly and inexplicably transported _here,_ wherever _here_ was, and, moreover, was being _attacked_ by a collection of rather _unpleasant _creatures, creatures that made Murgo soldiers look like civilized human beings.

Her reaction was immediate and dramatic. Two of the creatures, one resembling a large bear, the other vaguely demonic, went sailing out through some nearby windows. An animated skeleton found itself completely disintegrated and its bones strewn across the entire room. Two tables and a few chairs were sent flying at a hooded and cloaked figure that seemed to exude darkness. Unfortunately for her, they were merely shrugged off; the figure continued its steady advance and drew a sword. Fire dripped off the blade.

_Fire, is it? Well, then, be my guest._ She gathered her will in her right hand, feeding it into fire and letting the flames grow hotter and hotter, and was just about to throw it when another robed figure, this one brown, stepped in front of her and unclipped a device from its belt. With a low buzz, a blade of blue light leapt from the device, as the figure assumed a fighting stance.

The wraith chuckled malevolently. "You are a fool. No man can kill me." It raised its flaming sword, then brought it down in a whistling arc…only to be stopped in a white flash by the other's shining blue blade. Polgara heard a rushing sound, and the wraith was flung back against a wall. The brown-robed figure leapt after it, and the two met with a blur of weapons. She observed carefully, still holding her fireball ready, as they cut and parried, thrust and lunged, each clash of blades marked by a blinding flash. The surrounding people and creatures scattered as the pair moved over the floor, shattering furniture that got in their way and, on occasion, using it as extra missile weapons. Finally the enraged wraith, over-extending a lunge, found itself skewering nothing but thin air. Its opponent, ducking down under the blade, supported himself with one hand and kicked upwards, propelling the wraith into the ceiling.

_Yes._ She hurled the fireball. By now it was white-hot, and it impacted with a tremendous crack. The wraith was obliterated in the ensuing explosion, and a large part of the wall and ceiling blasted outwards. A soul-chilling, piercing shriek rent the air, causing everyone to clutch their ears in pain.

As the wraith's death scream faded, everyone fell silent. The remaining combatant picked himself up and turned to the Sorceress, his weapon still humming. Polgara was the first to break the silence.

"He must have forgotten about women," she observed casually. "What an idiot."

As the head of the last of the group of attackers fell to the ground, Hiko Seijuro the 13th, master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, realised that something was off. He flicked the excess blood off his blade and cleaned it with a handkerchief. Then he noticed his cloak. For some reason, it was far too bulky, and dragged slightly on the ground.

_Either my cloak grew, or I've shrunk,_ he thought. _I'm not sure which is the more perturbing. Furthermore, this town is _definitely_ not on my way home. And what happened to the pots I was carrying?_

He sheathed his katana and glanced around, checking to see if anything else had decided he made a good target. Fortunately, the only vicious creatures in the immediate vicinity – some humanoid but unusually ferocious things with oversized canines that turned to ash if you cut their heads off – were busy attacking a tall, pale man who wore a broad-brimmed hat and wielded a long, curved sword with an elaborate cross-guard. The man seemed to be coping adequately, so Hiko Seijuro the 13th strolled off in the opposite direction. He hadn't gone far, however, when a strange apparition stepped out from the shadows beneath a tree and into the middle of the street in front of him.

The figure would have looked like a normal man, were it not for the mass of red tentacles he had instead of a right hand. The mass of red tentacles, each with its own mouth of razor sharp teeth.

"Look what we have here, my pretties. A fresh meal, all for you!" chuckled the man.

Hiko Seijuro raised an eyebrow. The tentacles shot forward, each one intent on his body. He grasped his sword. There were three simultaneous diagonal flashes of steel, and the shredded remains of the tentacles rained down over the nearby area.

The man stared at his arm, his eyes wide. When he looked up, Hiko Seijuro was no longer there. Five meters behind him, he heard a sword slide back into its scabbard. Then, in a spray of blood, his body split vertically from head to naval.

The master swordsman continued walking for a few seconds. Then, from behind, he heard an ominous bubbling. He turned, and blinked.

Where the severed corpse had fallen, there was now a writhing, churning mass of distorted flesh. Growing and contorting, it formed arms and new tentacles, then three heads, each one with grossly oversized teeth and white, bulbous eyes that focused on him, and narrowed. Suddenly, twin spikes shot from the abomination, and he leapt aside in the nick of time, only just avoiding being skewered.

He landed, thinking furiously. Hiko Seijuro the 13th had killed hundreds of men in his time, but he had _never_ faced an enemy that could regenerate itself. He had just decided to make a few feints, in an attempt to discover the creature's possible weaknesses, when an intensely bright light erupted from it. An explosion rocketed skywards with a thunderous report, knocking him backwards. When the light subsided, he got up and looked around.

A young man with glowing eyes and an outsize sword strapped to his back stood on the other side of the road. Where the creature had been, there was now only a smoking crater.

_Incredible. Did he not even draw his sword?_ Hiko Seijuro walked around the crater and stopped, about five meters away from the newcomer. They observed each other carefully.

"Very impressive. How did you do that?" Seijuro was the first to break the silence. The other replied with one word: "Materia."

This raised an eyebrow. "More specifically?" The young man spoke a strange kind of Japanese; understandable, but not a dialect the 13th had ever heard before. He now shook his head. "That would take too long. I've got more important things to do. Like finding out how I got here. Where is here, by the way? Do you know?"

Hiko Seijuro shook his head. "That, I'm afraid, is as much a mystery to me as it is to you."

The young man snorted. "I doubt that. I've got some idea of where to look for an answer, and since you're the first person I've met in a while who isn't either completely incoherent or trying to kill me, d'you want to come along?"

Seijuro pretended to consider. "Well, I haven't got anything more productive to do, and would very much like an answer to that question, so, yes."

A group of motorcyclists came careening around the corner, then raced down the street towards the two men. The leader, an Asian-looking teen with a bulky, cylindrical gun hung over his back and no helmet, gunned his motor and ramped the crater with an ecstatic "Whoo-hooooo!" The rest of the gang followed suit successfully, except for the last one, whose bike's rear wheel caught the crater's far rim and sent him spinning off sideways through the window of a nearby house, while his companions drove off heedlessly.

The two men looked down the road after the bikers, then at each other, with identically perplexed expressions. The taller man was first to break the silence.

"Right. By the way, my name's Cloud Strife."

"I'm Hiko Seijuro the 13th. And, much as it pains me to say this, thank you for your assistance."

"It pains you?"

"Yes. I haven't needed assistance in combat for years."

Cloud shrugged. "Let's get going."

They left the scene, still conversing:

"How do you know this is the right direction, anyway?"

"Materia."

"Is that the way you answer all questions?"

"No."

"Hmm."

As the Lion Heart flashed down, he pulled the trigger. With a stunning report, the ensuing explosion ripped the tree-wielding troll almost in half. Its roar turned into a gurgle, then died as it slumped to the ground.

Squall wiped the blade off on some nearby grass, and brushed dirt off his forehead. _Damn. That tree took me by surprise. I'm getting slack. _Then, angrily,_ Well, no shit! First I fight the most powerful sorceress ever, her million guardians AND her personal GF, and now all these monsters that my Scans won't even identify. PLUS, everyone I've met has either tried to kill me or run away screaming. Don't I EVER get a break!_

He shook his head. It was pointless to think like that. _Stick with the original plan: find somewhere safe, then try to sort things out._

Sheathing his gunblade, he was about to move off, when his GF-enhanced hearing picked up the sounds of another battle: grunts, roars, and…was that a human voice?

He ran in the direction of the fight, treading lightly and keeping to the shadows. Through a few gardens, a gap in a hedge, over a wall and…there!

He surveyed the scene below from the top of the wall. There were three attackers: a hairy, wolfish creature that stood on its hind legs, a huge man with many scars who was wielding a chainsaw as if it were a sword, and a zombie. Their target was a rather scantily dressed woman who fought back with what appeared to be claws, a whip, and a remarkably fluid style that made use of all her limbs simultaneously.

Squall thought for a moment. The woman was holding her own, and avoiding almost all the blows directed at her with surprising agility; however, she was not doing much damage in return, and seemed more intent on stunning her opponents enough to escape than she was on killing them. Since her opponents were clearly monsters – possibly with the exception of the chainsaw guy – and therefore not likely to stop attacking unless killed, Squall decided to assist.

A quick Holy spell took care of the zombie, consuming it in a white light as he leapt down, aiming a savage blow at the chainsaw guy. However, the wolfman had other plans, and pounced, catching him in mid-fall and bowling the both of them ten meters away. As it worried at his throat, pinning his right arm under him, he cocked his left fist and sent it crashing back against the wall. It recovered and leapt again, only to be met by a flash of blue crystal and neatly severed. By now, the leatherface wannabe had turned its attention to him. Gunning its chainsaw, it aimed a clumsy swing at the SeeD, who ducked easily, turned his Lion Heart upside down and casually thrust it through the centre of the thing's chest. The creature had a moment to look down, puzzled, before Squall pulled the trigger.

After pausing for a few seconds to pick little bits of flesh out of his collar, Squall turned his attention to the woman. Inadvertently, his eyes tried to look up and down her at the same time. Her attire was designed to reveal rather than conceal: black leather trousers with patterns cut out of the material, black leather gloves that reached past her elbows – the 'claws' he'd noticed earlier were diamond-set pointed fake nails, firmly attached to the tips of her gloves' fingers, stiletto-heeled boots (also black), a very complimentary black leather brassiere – the only things covering her midriff were two diagonally hung belts – and, adding the finishing touch to her revealing get-up, a black leather mask with cat-like ears. She held herself in a half-crouch, her whip ready, her eyes narrowed and taking in his every move.

"You can put the whip down," he said, sheathing his gunblade. "I'm not into S&M."

She smiled humourlessly. "Funny." Then, cocking her head, "You've probably never tried."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes. "Look, if I wanted to kill you, I would've left you to the gruesome threesome."

She seemed to consider this, then shrugged, coiled her whip and tucked it into a belt, momentarily reminding Squall of Quistis. _Only Quistis would never wear anything like that, except perhaps in the Trepies' wildest fantasies._

"So, then, what _do_ you want?" she asked.

"I want to know what's going on here. It looked like a monster invasion at first, but now it seems like total anarchy. And anyone I try to ask either attacks me or runs away screaming. With you being the notable exception. So, do you know?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Hey, search me, buddy. Or rather don't." The tip of her tongue passed over the corner of her bright red lips, and she chuckled. Squall kept his face neutral as she continued, "I don't even know what this place is, or how I got here."

That got Squall's attention. "You too?"

They stared at each other in surprise. "This is weird," said the woman after a moment. "Maybe we both have amnesia."

"That might be it," said Squall. "But if it isn't…" He thought hard. _Maybe it's a side-effect of reversing time compression. If everyone's been displaced, both in time and space, it's no wonder there's anarchy. _

"Hey? Hey! Earth to Mr Gun-slash-sword-slinger! Care to share?"

He shook his head. _Hang on, Dr Odine said that everything should revert to the state it was in at the moment right before compression, with a few minor changes. He said that personal displacement might occur, but definitely not temporal displacement, so…"_

"What year is it?" he asked suddenly. This earned him a "Huh?"

"I said, what year is it?"

"Duh! It's nineteen ninety-seven! Where are you _from, _wonder boy?"

Squall sighed. "Evidently, another time."

"…say what?"

_Hynedammit. Okay, I'm in the wrong time again, so maybe there's some external influencing factor that I haven't thought of, someone else messing with time-compression-related magic. So how would I find out?_

"Geez. Look here, Mr Cryptic, if you're just gonna go off into meditative trances and shit, I am _so_ outta here."

"Hang on," he said, looking up. "I have an idea. Stand back."

"…What for?"

"Just do it, okay? This might not work exactly as I want it to."

"Alrighty, then." She stepped back a few paces and stood, her arms folded, tapping a diamond nail against one of her belt buckles, while Squall touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead.

_Shiva. I need your help._

The grass under his feet whitened with frost. The wind chilled, and snowflakes began to spiral in the air a few metres in front of him. The woman stepped further back, her eyes widening, as she reached for her whip.

Suddenly, a jagged pillar of ice thrust itself out of the ground below the snowflakes. Inside, both of them could see the figure a stunningly beautiful woman, blue-skinned from head to foot, standing with her arms crossed across her breast and here eyes closed.

_Sheesh, she's wearing even less than I am._

Shiva's eyes snapped open. She flung her arms apart, and the pillar of ice shattered, each shard melting and vanishing almost immediately. Her eyes shifted to rest on Squall. When she spoke, her lips remained still, and the sound seemed to come from all directions.

_FOR WHAT PURPOSE HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME, MASTER?_

"There is some magic at work here, Shiva, and I need you to determine what kind," Squall replied.

Shiva closed her eyes again, and moved an arm floatingly through the air, trailing a cloud of condensation.

_THERE IS MAGIC AT WORK, INDEED, BUT I HAVE NEVER SEEN THE LIKE BEFORE. I CANNOT DETERMINE ITS NATURE, BUT I CAN DISCERNE ITS SOURCE._ She pointed towards a house across the street.

"That house?"

_NO. THAT DIRECTION. LOOK FOR A STATUE WITH TWO FACES._

Squall narrowed his eyes. "So, I just need to go in that general direction and find a statue with two faces?"

_YES, MASTER._

"And you couldn't possibly be more specific?"

_I AM AFRAID NOT, MASTER._

He sighed. "Fine, then. And thanks."

Without another word, the ethereal figure faded away. Within seconds, the air was warmer and the frost had disappeared. Squall turned to the woman in leather. "You coming?"

"Who was _that?"_ she asked, amazed by the whole event.

"Shiva, one of my Guardian Forces."

"Guardian Forces?"

"Yes."

"Okie-dokie. Can she do other stuff besides ventriloquism and cryptic advice?"

Squall took a deep breath. "She can freeze whole hordes of enemies with her ice attack. Now are you coming or not?"

She shrugged and walked up to him. "Sure, Mr Knight-without-the-shining-armour." As they walked off, he struggled to suppress his laughter. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing really, it's just that's probably the aptest thing you've called me so far."

Angel was worried. Or rather, he had passed worried a while back and was now moving on to extremely anxious. He had been on his way to meet Buffy at her house, when without any warning virtually everyone had gone insane. People had been turning into monsters – or worse – left, right and centre, and after a lot of frantic running and a few rather narrow escapes he had finally arrived at the Summers residence, only to find it empty. There was no sign of Buffy, Joyce, or even Dawn. Angel had set out to find them.

Fortunately for him, vampire senses came in handy for things like tracking, and he had found Buffy's trail without too much difficulty. Following it was even easier, as the route she was currently on – wherever she was headed – was signposted at relatively regular intervals by the corpses of what he presumed had been her attackers. As he glanced over the latest one, noticing the number of pieces it was in, he momentarily wondered what sort of costume she was wearing that included a bladed weapon. _Xena, maybe? _He shook his head and ran on.

Finally, he caught sight of her. He almost missed her, on account of the red hair, but a quick double take confirmed his hope. She was in the middle of an intersection, dressed in an elaborate kimono, her weapon – a sword of Chinese design, unless he was mistaken – raised, as she charged her opponent – a horned, red-eyed, spiky-armoured fiend, who stood seven feet tall and wielded a double-bladed spear.

Before he could yell a warning, the creature attacked, hurling a fireball at her. She dodged with ease and closed the distance swiftly, aiming her sword at its head. She was met with spinning blades, and the two began a deadly dance as Angel rushed forwards to see if he could help. Nearing the two, he saw that Buffy's eyes were also glowing red.

Yoko dodged one cut and parried the next, aiming a kick at her opponent's midsection. It glanced off the armour, and she barely avoided the next spinning attack. Despite the thickness of the creature's armour and hence the weight it was carrying, it moved with grace and speed, giving her guardian its first challenging fight since she'd arrived here. She leapt over its head and, kicking off from a lamppost, swung her sword to cut at its back – to no avail. It spun round and caught her blade with the dual-spear, sending her skidding across the road. A fireball followed, missing her and hitting a nearby pickup truck, which promptly exploded.

A man with dark spiky hair came charging towards the creature, attempting to hit it with a signpost. It simply grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and tossed him against a house. He bounced off the wall and lay still. The creature then turned back to Yoko, ready to finish her off, but the few seconds it had been distracted had given her time to think of something.

Grabbing a hubcap from the wreckage of the destroyed pickup truck, she flung it, frisbee-style, at the fire hydrant near where the creature was standing, hard enough for the hubcap to shatter the hydrant's top and cover its surroundings with a deluge of water. While her opponent shook its head and spluttered, she rushed over to the nearest lamppost and, with a single sweeping cut, chopped it in half.

The post teetered, swayed, and fell forwards into the newly-created puddle in which the creature was now standing. Yoko jumped back as the wires strung from the top of the pole touched the water.

With a furious roar, the creature was engulfed in a blazing series of electrical discharges. Blue and white sparks shot from its armour as it jerked and convulsed. It raised its arm and tried to throw the spear at her, but, on the verge of death, it could only summon up enough strength to make the weapon land clattering at her feet. As it slumped into the puddle, and all the nearby streetlights winked out, it occurred to Yoko what a fitting gesture that had been.

A small teenage girl appeared out of nowhere. She was dressed in a white nightgown and wore her hair in a single plait down the left side of her head. She gazed at Yoko for a long moment, then blinked and vanished. Yoko didn't bat an eyelid – she'd seen far too many weird things this evening to be phased by one more.

"Buffy! Buffy, are you alright?" Yoko turned. The man who'd served as the creature's distracter ran up to her. He seemed a bit scuffed, but not seriously so. "Buffy, what happened, I went…"

Angel cut himself short as he suddenly found a swordpoint at his neck and Buffy looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Anta dare?" she said.

Angel blinked. "…Buffy? What's going on?" He tried to brush the sword aside, but she pressed the tip right up against his jugular and her voice became more insistent. _"Anta dare!"_

_When did she learn Japanese? Maybe I should play along._

Buffy, what's going on? I'm Angel, you know that. Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?> he asked in Japanese. Her answer stunned him.

I don't know who or what you are, but my name is _definitely_ not Buffy. And, by the looks of things, you seem to be worse off than I am.>

Angel's mouth worked silently for a moment before he burst out, What do you mean? You're Buffy Summers, the Slayer, and… She cut him off. My name is Nakajima Yoko, if you must know, Angel-san. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. Unless you're also going to attack me?>

She stepped back and sheathed her sword as Angel stood there, speechless. Turning, she began to walk off. Wait!> called Angel. Where are you going?>

To find out what's going on,> she replied, neither turning her head nor slowing her step. He stood for a moment, deliberating, then picked up her late opponent's weapon and ran after her. I'll come with you!>

She stopped and regarded him carefully. Then she shrugged. Alright.>

With a final buzz, the brown-robed figure's brilliant weapon retracted itself into the handle. He turned and walked towards the sorceress, pushing back his hood with his free hand. "Fascinating. I've never seen anyone use the Force quite like you just did," he remarked.

"The Force? Hmm. What an interesting label. I've never heard it before." Polgara replied, fingering the single white streak in her fringe.

A few people edged up to them. "Mr Giles? Ms Calender?" said one hesitantly.

At that moment a statuesque young woman with purple hair and a Desert Eagle .45 burst in through the nearby doors. "What the hell's going on?" she asked the room.

People exchanged looks, until Polgara answered. "I have absolutely no idea. I only just got here myself."

"Fine," came the reply. "I need a phone. Does anyone have a phone?" A nervous-looking man, obviously intimidated by the casually-held handgun, offered her his cellphone. "Thanks," she said, taking it and holstering her weapon. She then brought her hand to the back of her neck, and, to everyone's amazement, extracted from it a wire with a connecting plug attached to its end. She directed this towards the phone, then frowned, and turned the device over and around, looking at it carefully.

"This thing doesn't have direct interface sockets," she said, annoyed, before cracking the covering open. The nervous man gave a strangled cry, but thought better of actually saying anything as the woman fiddled with the inner circuits, using a delicate metal tool. Within half a minute, she had connected herself to the eviscerated cellphone. She then stood still and stared blankly ahead as everyone watched with bated breath.

After about ten seconds, she blinked and pulled her wire out, retracting it back into her neck. "It's no good. Either there's been a planet-wide multiple network failure, or we're in some kind of dead zone. Or perhaps something else that I haven't thought of yet, although anything along those lines would be even more catastrophic."

As the room took this news in, the brown-robed man said, his expression particularly calm, "I feel a disturbance in the Force."

"I feel something, too. It's on the very edge of my senses, but it's there," said Polgara. She looked around, and made up her mind. Turning to the purple-haired woman, she asked, "What is your name?"

"Motoko Kusenagi."

"Pleased to meet you. My name is Polgara. Motoko, could you stay here and protect these people in case something else tries to kill them?"

Motoko frowned. "Where are you going?"

The brown-robed man spoke up. _"We_ are going to search for the source of the current situation, and when we find out what's going on, we shall come back and notify you."

Polgara turned to him. "And who exactly might you be?"

The man bowed. "Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi at your service, ma'am."

Rukia alighted deftly on the top of a four-story building in downtown Sunnydale and considered the situation carefully.

Since her cellphone was for some reason unable to receive a signal, she had taken it upon herself to observe the widespread chaos and destruction for some time now, and had come to the conclusion that it was the result of supernatural influences. Although she detected the presence of no hollows – no pluses either, for that matter – some strange spirit power was definitely at work. Even had she not been able to sense the spirit energy pervading the entire town, she would probably have reached the same conclusion; she did not see how stone giants who wielded massive double-bladed swords that could be thrown like boomerangs fighting green-skinned women whose weapons included fearsome claws that sprung from their backs was a normal, scientifically explicable occurrence of terrestrial life.

She closed her eyes, breathed in and out, and concentrated. Around her, the physical world faded out, replaced by a dull background. Then suddenly, what looked like hundreds of long, white strips of cloth appeared around her – reiraku. Now, just to find the right one, and trace it back to its origin…

…there! Her eyes snapped open as she grabbed a particularly broad one. White, so neither a shinigami nor a hollow. The reiraku disappeared and the real world faded back in.

_Time to solve this, _she thought, and leapt.

_This town scores a 9.4 on my weird-shit-o-meter,_ thought Beatrix, as she swerved the car to avoid two combatants, a fully-armoured knight who wore a surcoat with the design of an Ankh and a lithe, lizard-like creature that fought with a pair of three-bladed knives. Shifting up into fourth gear, she aimed for a gap in the upcoming intersection between two wrecked and burning cars.

Suddenly, her headlights showed up a new pair of fighters. Before she had time to slow down, one of them, a little girl with twin plaits and a sword as long as she was tall, drove her weapon into the road. Huge metal spikes shot out of the tarmac in a row towards her opponent, a bright green giant whose only clothing was a pair of shorts. He leapt up like a gigantic flea, avoiding the spikes easily. Unfortunately, both Beatrix and the car she was driving were unable to do the same.

She swung the car hard to the left, but one of the spikes snagged the front right wheel, shunting the vehicle through a fence and into the carpark adjacent to a nearby shopping centre. As the car skidded and screeched, she pulled the handbrake and braced herself. The front end impacted sideways into a minivan, jolting her horribly despite her seat-belt as she finally came to rest. She sighed, shook her head and checked herself. No broken bones.

_Well, at least I won't have to look far for another car,_ she thought.

Then a hand smashed through her side window and gripped her neck. She grabbed the arm, digging her thumbnail into its wrist, and snapped round to look at its owner. A frightening face with yellow eyes, ridges on its forehead and teeth that were far too sharp leered down at her.

After a beat, during which a million half-formed thoughts flew through her mind, she broke his grip with her left elbow and punched him in the face, sending him reeling. Unbuckling her seat-belt, she grabbed her Hanzo sword and stepped out, drawing it on what she knew was probably, however impossible it might seem, a vampire. A vampire who, by the looks of things, had brought a couple of his friends with him.

The two others were rushing her now. A foot shot out, and with a crack one went down, clutching his knee. The other took her katana straight through his stomach, roaring in pain as she twisted it, before stepping back and slicing off his head.

_Huh. Definitely a vampire. Make that 9.7,_ she thought as the body turned to dust. The first vampire had recovered from her punch and was now trying to return it. After a quick duck and a knee to the groin, his head was next to fall. By now the last one was standing and limping away as rapidly as he could.

She had taken a single step after the retreating vampire when something whizzed past her and embedded itself in the vampire's back. As the dust fell, the object clattered to the ground – a wooden stake. Beatrix turned to see a young girl with an outsize shut fan strapped to her back standing there, looking at her calmly.

The ex-assassin sheathed her katana. "Nice throw," she told the girl, and received a "Nani?" in reply. Switching to Japanese, Beatrix repeated the compliment. I said "nice throw".> She picked the stake up. The girl shrugged.

You can keep it. I've got others,> said the girl, when Beatrix offered her the stake back, as she indicated three more stuck into various weapon belts, next to a sizeable array of kunai and shuriken.

I see you came prepared.> Beatrix wagged her thumb at the stakes. The girl shook her head. Not really. I found out their weakness by accident when I used a wooden fence as an impromptu weapon, so I sharpened a few pieces of wood. And now, thanks to you, I see they're also vulnerable to decapitation. What are they, anyway? Do you know?>

Beatrix snorted. Well, they look like vampires, they die like vampires, so my guess is they're vampires.>

The girl frowned. I've never heard of these 'vampires'. Do you know of any other weaknesses they have?>

Beatrix's face plainly showed her surprise. You've never heard of vampires? Where are you from, kid?>

The Hidden Sand Village. My name is Tenmari, and I am a shinobi, not a kid.> The girl's voice had a slight edge to it. You?>

The older woman hesitated. Then, I'm Beatrix. And I hate to break it to you, but there haven't been any hidden villages in Japan since…>

"Well, well, look what we have here. A pair of lost little lambs. Even better, the Slayer's family!" Beatrix and Tenmari turned around slowly to see their interrupter. A vampire with bleached, slicked back hair and a leather duster stood at the head of a group of other vampires and various monstrous-looking things that neither Tenmari nor Beatrix could immediately identify.

Spike chuckled in satisfaction. He may not have found the Slayer, but this was certainly the next best thing. He didn't know who the Nibblet was supposed to be, but the Slayer's mom was dressed up like the bloody Black Mamba! He smiled as he remembered the films and the huge amount of blood they contained.

Tenmari glanced at Beatrix. Do you know this guy?>

Never seen him in my life.> Then, to Spike, "I don't know who you think we are, Billy Idol, but you should probably take your freakshow and scatter. Unless you'd like to 'return to the earth' like your buddies just now."

Spike laughed, then he laughed even harder as the Slayer's mom drew her sword and the kid took a stake in each hand. He spoke to his followers. "Get them. Don't kill them – they're gonna be Slayer-bait."

The six vampires snarled and charged. The other monsters roared…and fell silent as one of the vampires landed back at Spike's feet. They looked down at him, the back up at the others.

Two were impaled on Tenmari's stakes. The one at Spike's feet had been flung back by her bicycle kick. Two of the other three were already dust; the third just stood, looking stupidly at the Hanzo sword in his gut.

Beatrix twisted the katana and ripped it straight up, then round and across. The vampire's severed head split into two pieces before dissolving.

Spike's jaw dropped. He'd gained some respect for the Slayer's mom a few weeks back when she'd stood up to him with an axe, but this was verging on the surreal. Around him, the monsters let out low, guttural growls.

I think they're all going to charge,> said Tenmari, tucking her stakes away. Time for me to use this. Stand back.> She unhooked her fan and opened it with a single snap. Beatrix stepped back, keeping her sword in a ready position.

The monsters rushed forward. Tenmari swung her fan. With a gigantic blast of wind, the foremost attackers were completely shredded; the rest went flying. Some landed on the spike-covered road and were promptly skewered, the rest fell through various nearby roofs and windows. Tenmari shut her fan.

What was that?> asked Beatrix. Tenmari smiled, and replied, Dai Kamatachi no Jutsu.>

Spike staggered out of the building he'd fallen into, dusting himself off and swearing. _Chaos or no chaos, I should bloody well've listened to Dru when she told me not to take the minions out to enjoy the night,_ he thought. _Serves me bloody right._

A person crashed through the window of a nearby bar, rolling to his feet and readying his sword. His opponent, a man dressed like a samurai with an additional long ponytail and a pair of spectacles, followed him through the window and attacked without pausing. Spike watched the combat for a few seconds. The first man, a guy with bushy hair and a red jacket, fought particularly acrobatically, doing backflips and jumping off walls and lampposts, sometimes even using his sandals to block the other man's sword. The spectacled man fought in a more controlled manner, every cut and thrust smooth and precise, with no wasted energy. Despite this, the two seemed to be equally matched.

_Wankers,_ thought Spike. He heard a footfall to his right and turned sharply. "Slayer!" he exclaimed.

_Oh bollocks,_ he thought as he saw her eyes narrow and her hand go for the sword at her left hip. _She's also armed and dressed up, which means…and the bleeding poof too!_ Angel was with her, and carrying a fearsome-looking weapon. _This is not my night._

The battered blonde-haired vampire turned and ran. Yoko took her hand off her sword's hilt and turned to Angel. He called me Slayer, like you did.>

Angel nodded as she continued to think aloud. Maybe you were right about me possessing this body. My face is different…although the last time I travelled from one world to another a similar thing happened, but that was because I reverted to my true form, since it was my homeworld…> She stopped, realising she was solving nothing. Come on,> she said, and the two walked up to the car park.

Behind them, the two swordfighters continued without pause.

Tenmari shouldered her fan and caught Beatrix looking at her intently. What is it?>

Beatrix glanced away and shook her head. I just had the weirdest feeling that I've seen you somewhere before.>

You too?> said Tenmari in surprise. I had that feeling for a moment when I first saw you.>

They stared at each other. Beatrix was about to speak when they heard another voice.

"Joyce! Dawn!" A dark-haired man carrying a spear with a huge blade at each end ran up to them, followed by a red-headed girl in a beautiful kimono. "Are you alright?" he asked anxiously.

Beatrix gave him a cool look. "You know, this is the second time tonight someone's spoken to us as if he knows us. And considering what happened then…" she gripped her sword's hilt. "What do you want?"

"You don't remember me? At all?" They both shook their heads. He sighed. Pointing at Joyce, he said, "Let me guess. You're Beatrix Kiddo, aka Black Mamba, and you're currently on a mission to kill the rest of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad in revenge for killing you and your child."

Beatrix's expression turned as hard as steel. "How the fuck did you know all that?" she said, with an edge to her voice.

"You'll probably think I'm completely crazy for saying this, but it seems you're currently possessing someone else's body."

After a long moment, Beatrix put her left thumb against her sword's crossguard. "You haven't answered my question."

Look, we haven't got time for this, the red-head said to her companion. You can stay here and argue with them for as long as you like, but if you still want to find out what's going on…> she inclined her head and walked off in that direction.

Angel hung back a moment. "She said that…"

"I know what she said, and I'm coming with you. Tenmari?" The girl nodded, and the three of them followed Yoko across the carpark.

Squall flattened himself against the wall and peered round the corner into the alley. Inside, he could just make out a woman with short knife-blades extending from below each of her nails slicing open the throat of a scruffy-looking young punk. The guy went down with a wet gurgle as she performed a roundhouse kick on the dying man's friend, who'd been trying to attack her from behind. The boy's head hit the wall with a crunch; he slid down and lay still. Retracting the blades into her fingers, the woman turned towards the entrance around which Squall was peeking. As he snapped back out of view, he glimpsed the streetlight reflected off the shades surgically implanted into the woman's eye-sockets.

He motioned Patience – he had laughed earlier when she told him her name – to stay still, and listened hard. After a few seconds, he heard the woman's footsteps grow fainter and fade away. He took another look. The alley was empty.

Beckoning, he crept stealthily past the alley. Patience followed, keeping her heels off the ground. Once they were some distance away, they began walking normally again.

"So what was that?" she asked.

"Some chick with claws even sharper than yours," Squall replied. She snorted. Up ahead of them, the door of a bar opened and a man came stumbling out, apparently very drunk. He swayed a couple of times, before lurching round to face the other two.

The man's clothes were striking, despite being rather shabby. He wore a brown overcoat with flared cuffs and a dirty white shirt, while around his head he had wrapped a threadbare red scarf over which he wore a battered three-cornered hat. A cutlass was slung at his left hip, and he had beads in his dark goatee. He took one look at Patience and let out a low whistle.

"Upon my word, I have seen some fine women in the duration of my exceptional lifespan, but none _quite_ so fine as yourself." He lurched closer. "Tell me, dear lady, is that whip of yours merely a self-defence tool or do you use it for more…_recreational_ purposes?"

Patience raised an eyebrow and was about to make a saucy comeback when, to both her and the pirate's surprise, Squall stepped forward and punched him squarely in the forehead. The man swayed once more before toppling backwards.

"O-kay, where the hell did _that_ come from?" she asked Squall. "Are you gonna punch everyone who makes suggestive remarks to me? I suppose some girls might think that's real _sweet,_ but…"

"That's got nothing to do with it." Squall stood looking at the unconscious man, a puzzled expression on his face. "I don't know _why_ I punched him, but…it felt rather satisfying."

"Oh, do you know him?"

"No," said Squall. Patience frowned, then smiled suddenly. "Oh, well, nothing like a little random violence to make your day complete." She winked.

"Whatever." _I sincerely hope she _never_ gets her hands on any GFs._ He stepped over the prone body and continued walking. She fell in beside him, saying, "You know, you _really_ need a new catch-phrase. 'Whatever' is getting a _bit_ overused."

Squall refrained from commenting, and she was just about give him another verbal prod, when they turned a corner and saw a shop with a sign saying 'The Other Side' over its door. Approaching from the opposite direction, a robed figure with flowing hair stopped to observe the two.

_Who in Midgard are they?_ wondered Fenris.

Ethan poured himself a glass of wine – a particularly fine French chardonnay he'd been saving for a special occasion. And judging by what the radio had been broadcasting all night, this was a special occasion indeed. Silently, he toasted the statue of Janus, before downing the wine in one swallow and sighing in satisfaction.

"Eyewitnesses in downtown Sunnydale have reported two men engaged in unarmed airborne combat, both flying without the benefit of any aerodynamic devices. One observer compared them to Superman, with the exception that, and I quote, 'Superman never wore trenchcoats or sunglasses.'"

Ethan chuckled; he'd been a bit concerned about those two costumes, as to whether their wearers would find themselves relatively powerless in the 'real' world. So much for that.

"We've just heard that a young lady with glowing white wings has incinerated a horribly deformed baby the size of a three-story building, along with most of the Wilkins Recreational Park. And who said angels were benevolent?"

This night had exceeded his expectations ten times over. So much for 'fanning the flames' – a more appropriate metaphor would probably involve napalm air-strikes and references to Krakatoa.

"Our source at the police station has this moment informed us that yet another person has died while phoning in an emergency. Although the victim was largely incoherent during the time of the call, the operator was able to discern a distinct clicking in the background shortly before the phoner started screaming about metal claws. Moments later, the line went dead. This marks the twenty-sixth person to die while on the phone tonight. And now, the latest strange event in this surreal evening: right outside this very building, a white-haired teenage boy armed with a purple, glowing sword is laughing manically as he faces off against what looks like a massive burning demon armed with…a white-hot whip. Well, I wouldn't like to be in his shoes, folks, because…look at that! He just…"

The announcer's voice cut out and was replaced by static. Ethan let out his own manic laugh as he poured himself more wine. When the glass was half-full, he stopped, and listened. He then set the glass down and switched off the radio. There – he could now hear the voices clearly, voices that came from outside the shop. Switching off the light, he carefully opened the door to the shop's main room and crept up to a window. He slowly peered out.

What he saw outside made him start visibly. Twelve people stood in the road in front of the shop, all dressed in his costumes except for one, who was carrying Dal Gurak's weapon. _What are they doing here?_ he thought frantically, then relaxed as he saw their tense expressions and how they were on the verge of drawing their weapons. _Come on, come on, start the fight. With this crew, it should be even more interesting than what I've heard over the radio._

But they weren't fighting. They were talking. In strained, angry voices to be sure, and half of them in Japanese, but they seemed more cautious than belligerent. Ethan frowned. _I put in an equal mix of good and evil characters. Why aren't they out fighting monsters, instead of chatting on my doorstep? Surely there're enough…"_

Then, the woman dressed as Beatrix Kiddo spoke, cutting through the others' voices. "Look, are we going in or not? You guys all agree that whatever's screwing with us is in there, right?" She pointed at the shop and, unknown to her, right where Ethan was crouching. He almost fell back in surprise. "So, let's get a move on. And for those of you who don't speak English…" She began to repeat herself in Japanese, but Ethan didn't hang around to listen. He bolted for the storeroom and ran as fast as he could out the back way, not stopping to take anything, wondering how things had suddenly gone so wrong. _Pity about the spell – they've probably come to deactivate it – but I am _not _going to be found in there by _those_ characters! I'd rather take my chances out here._

Hiko Seijuro the 13th had been listening resignedly to the yellow-attired blonde's tirade, when he suddenly snapped his head sideways and looked into the shop. What is it? the woman asked.

I felt a displacement of the area's ki. Someone just ran off, away from us, in that direction. He pointed beyond 'The Other Side'.

What! she exclaimed. Drawing her katana, she stormed up to the shop's door and dramatically kicked it open and stepped in. The others looked at each other, then followed. For a moment, they stood staring into darkness. Yoko turned the lights on.

"A costume shop?" said Cloud in disbelief. "We've all been looking for a _costume shop?"_ Most of the racks were empty, but a few zombie outfits and one rather simple costume – a white nightgown and a long, black wig – still remained. I wonder if we've got the wrong place, mused Tenmari.

No, this is the right place, said Rukia. The shop is a front. I can sense the spiritual energy coming from behind that door. She walked up to the storeroom door and drew her zanpakutou.

Angel held up his free hand. "Careful. We don't know what's in there."

"Well, who or whatever it is, it's probably heard us already, so there's no point in wasting time trying to be cautious." Squall drew his gunblade, marched up to the door, and did a fair imitation of Beatrix's earlier door-opening-method. The only difference being, this time the door was kicked right off its hinges. Squall and Rukia stepped through while the others all drew their weapons and hurried after.

They found themselves looking at a curiously-shaped stone idol. On one side there was the face of a man, on the other side a woman's. The top of the shared head was carved as if the head had been opened, showing the brain inside. All in all, it was a strange piece of work.

"That's it!" said Squall, as Yoko made a similar exclamation in Japanese. "That's the source!"

"It's a statue of Janus," said Angel, pushing past Obi-Wan and Fenris. "An old Roman deity. He's…it's supposed to symbolize the duality in people."

Obi-Wan nodded. "That would explain why I sensed both the Dark Side and the Light Side resonating from this place."

_Lydia would love this,_ thought Fenris. Out loud, she said, "If this is linked to a deity, maybe I can find a way to contact her…it, directly. See if I can reverse whatever spell it's casting."

"And how are you planning on doing that?" asked Polgara. Fenris shrugged. "I don't know. I've never encountered this particular kind of magic before."

Oh, for the Planet's sake! yelled Cloud. Am I the only one who sees how obvious the solution is? He raised his huge sword. NO! yelled Tenmari, rushing to grab his arm, but she was too late. Cloud brought his Ultimate Weapon down on the statue, shattering it into a million pieces.

The next moment, a blast of green energy flashed outwards from the place where the statue had stood. Far too swift for any of the companions to avoid, it hurled them all back against the walls of the storeroom, and disappeared. They slumped to the floor, breathing heavily.

Angel was the first to get up. "Buffy?" he said, concern etched into his voice, as he went to her side. She raised her face. "Angel?"

He let out a sigh of relief and hugged her. "You're back. I was so worried." She returned the hug, saying, "I know. It was like I was there, but I couldn't get out. Yoko was the one holding all the controls."

The others were getting up, one by one. Cordelia removed her mask and shook out her hair. She caught Xander's eye and looked away uncomfortably. Xander brushed his jacket off. "So, are we all back to our common-or-garden or in some cases not-so-common-or-garden selves?" he asked.

Everyone replied in the affirmative, except for Jonathan, who was staring wide-eyed at the sword he was still holding, Joyce, who had dropped hers and was looking around in a panicky fashion, and Oz, who was leaning on his, staring at the ground.

Giles put his glasses on, frowned, then took them off and began to polish them. "W-w-well, mister…Osborne, is it, seems to have broken the spell when he smashed the idol. A rather rash thing to do, but evidently…"

"Giles!" hissed Buffy, who then wagged her head at her mother, indicating that now was not the time to talk about anything supernatural. Giles fumbled for an at least semi-plausable explanation. "Yes, well, erm, it seems that…"

"Hang on," said Oz, looking up at the others. "If we became what we dressed as because of a spell, and it's now broken…" He raised his sword in one hand, hefted it a couple of times, then swung it against the wall behind him. There was a clang of metal on cement, and a few sparks jumped.

"…then why hasn't my sword changed back to fibre-glass?" he said, to no-one in particular. "And furthermore, why can I still lift it?"

Everyone froze. Then, in a sudden flurry of motion, they all began checking their weapons.

"Oh my God! My sword's also real!" exclaimed Buffy.

"Mine's vanished…hang on!" said Willow, as she suddenly drew her zanpakutou out of thin air.

Dawn twirled a kunai around one of her fingers, her face shining with delight, before she unshouldered her fan. Amy was extending and retracting her staff. Xander just held his gunblade and looked it over, his finger well away from the trigger. Angel picked up his weapon – it hadn't changed back.

Jonathan tested his sword against a finger and jumped when it cut. "This is so…cool!" he yelled, jumping up and down in excitement.

"These are real diamonds! This is the best costume ever!" said Cordelia gleefully, looking at her claws.

Giles gingerly held his lightsabre at arms length and activated it. Everyone stopped their weapon inspections to stare at the glowing blue blade, which illuminated its holder's suddenly pale face. "Good Lord," he muttered, before turning it off. Then he noticed something even more odd. "Mr Osborne, do your eyes n-n-normally glow like that?"

Everyone turned to look at Oz's eyes. Then, once more, they checked themselves frantically, this time for physical changes. Xander's scar remained, most of the girls' hair was different, and Giles found that he no longer needed his glasses.

There was another moment's silence. Then, "What…what's happened to me? What's happened to all of us?" was all Joyce could say. Buffy and Giles exchanged a look. They knew this was it; the proverbial cat was out of the bag. Buffy walked over, sheathed her mother's new sword for her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Mom…it's a long story."

It was a subdued group that sat around the large table in the school library. Jenny had gone to give a plausible explanation to the no-doubt frightened teachers and parents. Buffy and Giles had started explaining the situation to Joyce while they walked from the shop to the school, with some extra information about Buffy's secret identity, and had just finished. Joyce, who had only been listening up until now, finally responded.

"I can hardly believe it…I mean, _vampires,_ but…I can remember fighting some. Did…did that really happen?" she asked, quietly and half to herself.

"It did, mom," replied Dawn, who was fairly unruffled; on account of her curious streak, she'd known about Buffy's secret identity for quite a while. "You were really cool, by the way!" This earned her a glare her older sister, to which she responded with a, "What? She was!"

Buffy exhaled. "Dawn, you're not _helping."_

"Oh my God…I…I actually…" Joyce looked at Buffy. "But…you…you do this as a regular thing?" Turning to Giles, "and you encourage her?"

Giles sighed. "I train her, guide her, and assist her in her work as the Slayer. Those are my duties as her Watcher."

"She's sixteen, for God's sake! How can you do this?"

"Mom, he doesn't force me or anything. It's my own choice." Buffy said sadly. "I'm the only one who can."

"No. No it's not just your choice. I am your mother, and I _refuse _to let you continue this…this insanity. You are needlessly putting yourself in danger and…"

"There's nothing _needless_ about it, mom!" Buffy raised her voice. "If I didn't patrol, this town would've been overrun by vampires long ago! That's what living on a Hellmouth means!"

They were interrupted by a slight scraping sound. The pen at the far end of the table was moving, jerkily at first, then more rapidly and smoothly, before becoming airborne and flying directly into Giles's outstretched hand. All eyes were on him as he stared wide-eyed at the pen, then dropped it on the table and leant back shakily, too surprised to make any comment.

However, Oz was not similarly affected. He raised an eyebrow. "Looks like the Force is still with you, Mr Giles."

"Y-y-yes, indeed it does. How remarkable." He picked the pen up, looked it over, then put it down. "It makes me wonder…was everyone who wore costumes from that shop similarly effected, or was it just us?"

The library doors opened and Jenny came through. "I told them it was a gas explosion. They seemed to buy it. I don't think anything hostile got in after we left," she said, in response to Giles's querying glance. She took the seat next to him. "The funny thing was that none of their props or costumes stayed real. They were all back to plastic and fibreglass when I arrived."

"So how come it was just us who were affected?" asked Cordelia, drumming her nails on the tabletop. Giles coughed, and she ceased. "Sorry."

"Well, the only possibility I can immediately think of is that we were within the radius of the blast that the statue emitted when Mr Osborne here destroyed it, thereby imprinting some of the spell's energy onto us directly. Of course, I'll have to do some research to confirm this hypothesis, b-b-but, as of this moment, that is my best guess."

Oz looked uncomfortable. "Er…sorry, guys."

"Oh, um, it's, it's not your fault, Mr Osborne. Not your fault at all. I mean, there's no way any of us could have predicted this, except possibly myself." Giles's face fell, remembering his shock when he'd looked through the papers in the shop and found Ethan's name. "I knew Ethan Rayne…a while back. He's the sort of person who enjoys this sort of…stunt, and if I'd been more observant when I was at the shop…"

After a moment's silence, Jenny spoke. "He probably noticed you and hid, or something. You remember? You were looking for the owner, and couldn't find him," she said reassuringly. Giles sighed, closing his eyes. He then opened them, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Well, the damage is done, although exactly how much, we probably still have yet to find out. But concerning us: our costumes have remained in their 'real' state, there have been certain physical changes…" he ticked off the points on his fingers, "…Angel, you were the only one of us unaffected, am I correct?"

Angel nodded. "I didn't dress up; I was only carrying a weapon that I took from something Buffy killed."

Buffy gasped. "Oh no. If the others changed back, that means…there was a person inside? Then…" She was too horrified to finish either the sentence or the thought. Everyone fell silent as they contemplated just what Buffy's observation meant. Possession or not, people were still dead.

Giles cleared his throat. "Erm…in, in any case, aside from clothing and physical changes, I can apparently use the Force. At least, I did just now on that pen. So, possibly, the rest of you – with the exception of Angel – have retained some of the, ah, special attributes of your characters."

"You mean, I might still be a master swordsman!" said Jonathan excitedly.

Giles nodded. "Yes, yes indeed, that is a possibility. So, in fact, might you, Mrs Summers."

Joyce started, then the realisation set in. "Oh. Oh my."

Amy had been sitting without speaking, evidently thinking about what the others were saying. Finally, she nodded to herself, as if reaching a conclusion. She raised a hand towards the bookshelves. There was a rushing noise, and the entire contents of two shelves flew towards her. She yelled in surprise as the force of the impacting books toppled her over onto her back.

Dawn and Xander jumped up to help her. "Are you alright, Amy?" Xander asked, righting her chair.

"Yes, thanks." Amy brushed herself off. "That isn't exactly what I had in mind – I was only aiming for one book. But still…I haven't even got onto floating pencils as a witch, and now I can shift twenty books at once…I mean, wow."

"Yeah, that ranks pretty big in the 'wow' department," quipped Xander. "I'd better not try anything in here – most of the spells I might be carrying are rather destructive."

"Ooh! Do you have any Ultima?" asked Dawn. Xander snorted. "If I use that here, it'll probably open the Hellmouth."

"Y-yes, please, no Ultimas here," said Giles. "Well, I think it would be best if we all ascertain exactly what sort of abilities we've retained."

"And then what?" said Willow, surprising everybody. "What do we do then? Try to reverse the spell? Or try to live with it? I mean, the new abilities are okay, but that isn't all that was left behind. Haven't you guys noticed yet? The memories that aren't yours?"

For a long time, no-one answered.

Ethan stopped his car and looked back at the town. There were fewer fires and sirens now; they must have found a way to break the spell. He shrugged. _I guess this round's over. Oh, well, it was fun. And I think I'll be back, someday. There's a lot a chaos mage can do with a town built on a Hellmouth._

He put the car into gear again, and pointed it towards the smear of light on the horizon that marked L. A.

**The End.**

**Glossary:  
**anime – Japanese animation  
manga – Japanese comics (you probably know the first two, but just in case ;-)  
dougi – top half of a kendo uniform (I reckoned shinigami uniforms & kendo uniforms would be somewhat similar)  
hakuma – outer kimono garment, covering the legs  
katana – Japanese samurai sword  
zanpakutou – soul cutter  
shinigami – literally, 'death god'  
shiisa – Okinawan word for a lion-shaped figure that wards off evil spirits  
yukata – summer kimono  
gigai – temporary body that shinigamis use for camouflage against hollows if for some reason they lose their powers while in the physical world  
youma – demon  
reiraku – spiritual threads  
"Anta dare?" – "Who are you?"  
"Nani?" – "What?"  
kunai – weighted dagger  
shuriken – ninja stars  
Dai Kamatachi no Jutsu – Cyclone Blade Skill

**End notes:  
**Phew! That took _way_ longer than I expected. Oh well, at least it's done. And I'll probably leave this as a one-shot. I mean, considering how I've much I've upped the main characters' stats, I'll probably have to bring the First and the uber-vamps in at the end of Season 2 to give the Scoobies a challenge. And then invent some even more powerful enemies. Heh. Anyway, I've got something else planned. Something that will probably need a considerable amount of additional planning before I can start writing it properly.

To quote Calvin, "Further bulletins as events warrant."

Ja ne!


End file.
